


Body and Soul

by babydollbucky



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Touch-Starved Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:33:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28413948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babydollbucky/pseuds/babydollbucky
Summary: They've come a long way, but reassurance is always welcome.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 6
Kudos: 121
Collections: The Witcher Secret Santa 2020





	Body and Soul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the-spinning-jenny on Tumblr](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=the-spinning-jenny+on+Tumblr).



> Happy Holidays to all! Enjoy some softe.
> 
> To the-spinning-jenny,  
> I hope you like this little story. :)
> 
> Thank you to Death2Toby for betaing ♡

There was a time when Geralt flinched away from him. When the witcher could not stand his friendly touches, when he would growl at Jaskier for daring to touch him, though he always asked first. 

It was as if he couldn't ask for it, couldn't accept it (or didn't know how), but also couldn't outright deny himself. 

But now, years later, Geralt relaxes into him, though reciprocation is still rare (at least in public). 

He'd explained to him once he'd calmed down enough, gotten used to Jaskier's myriad touches, that no one touched a witcher by choice, unless they were paid. 

Not even amongst themselves. 

"Withholding comfort would make us stronger, less prone to seeking it out later. It was a distraction we could not afford," Geralt had told him quietly as they sat by a fire. 

"Do you still believe that?" Jaskier had asked while tracing the lines and callouses of Geralt's hand.

"Never really did… just didn't think I'd ever have the luxury of challenging it." 

It was simultaneously shocking and completely believable, given Geralt's reactions. 

Kaer Morhen's masters certainly thought they were adept at turning young boys into inhuman, stoic warriors.

All they truly did was break those boys, beat them down until they internalized the lies others spewed. 

To think that Geralt had gone from having a loving mother who rocked him to sleep, to never being touched again unless it was out of brutality or necessity… it is unbearably cruel. 

Luckily, Jaskier has been able to wear Geralt down a bit. Never completely, as Geralt’s beliefs and experiences spanned decades. It would take a long time to make him completely accept touch as a thing of kindness and pleasure. It would take a long time to convince him that Jaskier loves him wholly, and unconditionally. 

It's a challenge Jaskier is happy to take upon himself. And he's proud that he's been able to slowly chip away at the self-hatred that has plagued Geralt since it was taught to him as a child. 

As they lay in a surprisingly soft bed at an inn in some small village he's forgotten the name of, Jaskier feels awed by the trust Geralt shows him now. The man allows Jaskier to play with his hair, run his fingers along his spine, kiss his forehead. The only reactions garnered are a deep sigh and a small smile. 

Jaskier smiles against Geralt's temple as the witcher nearly purrs in contentment. 

Tomorrow, they will meet up with Yennefer and Ciri, and they will begin the long trek to the keep together. Jaskier must savor this gentle scene as best he can. Geralt may melt around his daughter-and he may have a soft spot for Yen-but Jaskier is the only one who gets to see him like this.

The privilege humbles him. 

He is even more humbled the next night when, having found the rest of their party, Geralt leaves Yen to set up camp and pulls Jaskier a bit away by the hand. 

That in itself is rare. 

Geralt still tends to shy away from initiating anything, half terrified he'll break the bard. Jaskier had almost laughed at the confession years ago, but one look at Geralt's face staid him. A piece of his heart had chipped off thinking about why the white-haired man would be so afraid-what the mages of Kaer Morhen told those boys-turned-warriors to keep them alone, and lonely. 

He'd been acting...off... all day. Nothing terrible, just quieter than usual. Lost in his own thoughts unless addressed directly. 

He  _ also  _ noticed Yennefer giving him pointed looks,which wasn't altogether uncommon. She was trying to nudge Geralt into doing... something. 

He'd long ago stopped trying to anticipate Yennefer. She'd do what she liked regardless of anyone else's thoughts about the matter. There was no need to worry, or waste energy trying to guess what she was up to, though. She always meant well, nowadays. 

Still, Geralt's reticence was of slight concern. It wasn't like him to be so closed off with Ciri at his side. 

But then Geralt had grabbed his hand in front of Yen and Ciri. 

He couldn't help but grin. 

They said nothing until Geralt stopped them in front of a stream. He wouldn't look at Jaskier, which was odd. That was one thing Geralt wasn't wary of. 

His eyes helped protect his heart, Jaskier thought. A glare would send belligerent townspeople running before their vile words could escape them. They could also say what his mouth refused to. 

"What’s going on in that lovely head of yours, dear?" He asked gently. 

Geralt stared resolutely at the water, small ripples forming from the tiny fish making their way around. But, his lips flicked up into a smile for a second before settling in a neutral line. 

He moves like lightning, hands coming up to frame Jaskier's face, suddenly very close and very intensely searching his eyes for something. He seems to be steeling himself, almost the way he does before entering a new town. 

Before facing rejection.

"Geralt--" he tries, but the other man cuts him off.

"Let me speak, before I lose my nerve," comes the gravelly plea. The gold of Geralt’s irises shimmers in light of the setting sun. Jaskier can only nod in response.

"You're… you're so good to me. I don't understand why, but… thank you." He doesn't speak again for a bit, so Jaskier opens his mouth only to have Geralt's lips meet his own. He sighs into it, because what else can he do? If Geralt wants to kiss him, Jaskier will let him. 

The witcher pulls away a smidge to whisper, "I want to be worthy of it. While we're… home... help me be worthy of it." 

Jaskier can't help but gasp at the plain  _ longing  _ in Geralt's entire being, and almost looks away from the intensity of his attention, but he makes himself keep looking. 

He needs Geralt to see him when he answers. He holds his hands where they rest on the sides of his face to keep him there and smiles.

"Oh, Geralt, you already are, dear heart." 

The witcher looks shocked for a moment, and then almost sags against Jaskier in relief. He rests his forehead on the bard's shoulder and lets Jaskier pet his hair, as he has for years now. 


End file.
